Across the Way

I like to talk with you in my mind like you're here, even though you've been gone for seven months now. Oh, Paul! If only you had made a doctor's appointment like I asked, maybe... Oh well, none of that matters anymore.

Yesterday, I finally got around to boxing up some of your clothes. I couldn't help holding each item to my face, hoping to get one last touch from you or a passing scent of you. I could hear you say, "Don't be silly, Mildred. Get on with it."

Still, I couldn't bring myself to give it all away, so I took one box up to the attic, thinking maybe I'd get someone to make a quilt out of some of your clothes for snuggling you, since my arthritis prohibits me from making one myself.

Hauling that box up the stairs was no mean feat. As I placed it, I glanced through that old window to the house across the way. Paul, you'd never believe what I saw. There was a light on in the attic of that old, abandoned house. I thought for certain I was seeing things.

I remembered that you kept your camping things stored up there. I found your binoculars. Sure enough, there was a young girl with an old lantern over there. Her name was Trinity. How do I know? Because she was wearing a necklace with her name on it. She was poking around, looking through old boxes, occasionally attempting to wave away the clouds of dust.

She set the lantern down and pulled out an antique doll. It looked like one of those that had a cloth body and a porcelain head. It was wearing a beautiful, blue dress. Trinity hugged that doll like it was a long, lost friend. Then, she started dancing with it. I watched in wonder at the freedom of youth. It started out like a waltz and then sped up. She began spinning faster and faster, until she bumped the lamp into the boxes.

Paul, I swear on all that's holy, a fire broke out that I knew she wouldn't be able to extinguish. You know I always keep my cell phone with me ever since Sue fell in her bathroom and got stuck there for hours. I called 911 as fast as my arthritic fingers would let me.

I told the operator what I had seen. He said help was on the way, and that I should stay on the line. With trepidation, I looked again through the binoculars. Trinity was trying to put out the flames with her jacket, which only served to fan them. They flared up. I could see her face contort, and I could tell she was yelling, "Help!" but no lights went on in the rest of the house. I had to look away. I didn't want to watch her die.

I heard emergency vehicles and saw the trucks coming. I took another quick glance to the window across the way. I almost dropped the binoculars in shock. All was dark. Had the fire gone out on its own? Had Trinity somehow managed to squelch it?

A few minutes later, I heard someone knock on our front door.

I yelled, "Coming," certain they wouldn't hear me from up in the attic. As slowly as I move, they started pounding impatiently. I hastened my old body down the stairs and opened the door.

"Ma'am," the officer greeted me, "What's this about a fire?"

I looked down, not sure what to say. I was still short-winded from the sudden exertion. I took a deep breath and said, "I thought I saw a fire in that house." I pointed. "I may have been mistaken. I'm sorry I wasted your time."

That's when I felt light-headed and pain in my chest. Paul, I'm coming to you.

*

Two months later, a family moved into the house across the way. Their inquisitive daughter's name was Trinity.